Ashes
by ShyIntrovert
Summary: What do you do when all you have left is ashes? A MarthaLionel AU


A/N: Martha/Lionel AU after season 1. I have portrayed the characters as they might be, under the surface, but they might seem a little OOC.

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**Ashes**

Martha burrowed sleepily into her pillow, pulling covers up to shield her eyes from the sun. She made a sleepy mental note, as she did every dawn, to buy thicker ones soon. She willed herself back to sleep, taking deep breaths and paused, drawn to full consciousness with a jerk. Her room didn't smell like this, faintly antiseptic. With a gasp, she opened her eyes, turned in the bed, and swallowed, feeling the dryness in her throat and the cottony taste in her mouth. Her eyes were bleary and didn't focus for a minute. Her blurred impression was of institutional green walls and beeping machines.

She moaned as she sat up, feeling like she was hurt all over. She looked at her hands and saw scratches. She searched for an elusive wisp of memory and remembered. _The car turned over_.

"Martha?" Jonathan said softly, and she looked at him, sitting in an uncomfortable looking white chair across from the bed she was in. His blond head was a familiar sight and he looked even more untidy then he usually did. There with bags under his eyes and brown stubble on his cheeks.

"Water" she said hoarsely.

Jonathan jumped out of the chair to get her water and she watched him, looking at the traces of tears on his face.

"Jonathan, what's wrong?" she asked, gripped by a feeling of dread. Jonathan _never_ showed emotion, unless it was anger. He handed her the water and she gulped it down, waiting.

"The baby" he said, his voice almost a whisper. "We lost the baby."

Martha turned to the pillow and wept, feeling ashes in her mouth. Jonathan stroked her shoulders and she pulled away, her ability to suppress her reactions gone, and hissed fiercely "Don't touch me." Jonathan looked like a wounded puppy, she thought harshly, sighing. "I need to be alone for a bit" she said, gentling her voice so he would hear the patient tones she had used for most of their lives together. He left, and she started at the door and let the tears come.

The next time Martha woke up, Jonathan was sleeping. She felt a dull ache in her body, and thought that it could be psychological. She had wanted the baby so much. Martha knew that the baby would have been a girl. She had wanted a daughter so badly. No more though. Her daughter was gone, vanished as though she had never been. The pain was almost unbearable.

Jonathan snored in the chair and she looked at him, the irritation she usually suppressed boiling to the surface. His stubble covered cheeks glistened with moisture and she could see weary groves on his face. Jonathan had wanted the baby more then she did, she thought. Raising Clark had not quelled his hunger for a child, but Jonathan was too caught up in his image of himself as perfect to acknowledge, even to himself, his atavistic desire for a son of his own blood. Jonathan's need to see himself as noble lay at the bottom of all of his actions. _It made manipulating him fairly easy_.

Jonathan's grief might be greater than her own, she thought, and felt a brief pang of irony and an even fainter one of guilt. She quashed the guilt fiercely. He owed her, she reminded herself, owed her for all her time in the dusty little farm town he called home. Then she thought of the reason she had stayed. Her son should be here, with her. "Jonathan" she said, and saw him wake "Where's Clark?"

Her face froze as she heard Jonathan's stammered explanation.

Her son was gone, just like the baby. And he hadn't been heard from for two days. Martha knew that he wouldn't be back anytime soon, not after what Jonathan had said to him. She wanted to yell, to scream and throw things. She wanted to tell Jonathan the truth, tell him what he had done and see him turn pale, but she did none of those things. Martha had grown adept at controlling herself through the years. She couldn't bear the sight of him, she thought with disgust. He might have driven away her son for good. She checked her growing panic. Jonathan would be no help to her.

"He'll come back, Honey" Jonathan said soothingly.

He wouldn't, Martha knew. He had the pride that ran in her family, and all of Jonathan's stubbornness. "Could you get me some coffee?" she asked, ignoring his reassurance. _Anything to get him out of the room._ Martha watched the white door as it closed and hid her view of his blond head, and knew that Jonathan might have driven away her son for good. Her son, for whom she had sacrificed, put up with life in a boring small town. He was the only reason she had stayed with Jonathan after her attraction to him had run it's course. And now Jonathan had driven him away. She inhaled deeply and the antiseptic smell of the hospital took her back to another day, seventeen years ago.......

_Seventeen years ago_

Martha stood in her gynecologist's office, ill at ease. It was a welcoming place, with warm blue walls and soft couches but nothing could mask the antiseptic hospital smell. Part of her unease was that the city made her feel out of place, after only a year in Smallville. Jonathan had refused to get a check up, insisting that _he_ could not be the reason they were having trouble conceiving a child.

"You can get a check up if you want" he had said. "But I wouldn't leave you even if you are the reason we aren't having children."

She remembered her violent anger at his calm assumption that their trouble conceiving was due to her. She looked at her doctor as she entered in her white suit. Dr Grey was the epitome of a professional woman, black hair cut close to her face, her suit understated but expensive. _I planned to dress like that, once_, Martha remembered. Instead, she was stuck on a farm, doing mindless, repetitive chores. The charm of the simple life was wearing thin, and Martha didn't like living with such a strict budget. Trips to the mall were a luxury now, as were dinners at nice restaurants. The idea of going back and asking her father for help was too repugnant to be considered though, and she was too in love with Jonathan to leave him. Irritated by the doctor's silence, Martha cleared her throat and demanded "Well."

"There's no reason you shouldn't have children, Martha" the doctor hurriedly assured her.

Martha exhaled and grinned madly.

Later, on the pavement, Martha considered what she had learned. So it _was _Jonathan who was the reason they were having difficulty having a baby. Telling him would cause a permanent rift between them, though. _Jonathan wasn't strong enough to take the news without sinking into depression and he would probably divorce her because he felt inadequate. _Well, she decided, she would keep the news to herself and tell him that she was incapable of having children. Jonathan's chivalry would force him to stick by her, and that way he could feel noble. Keeping the truth from him was the only way she could keep him, she decided. She didn't want to end their marriage and even if she wanted to, she was determined that she would be the one to leave. _Always be the one in charge_, her father's voice whispered softly in her head.

_Present_

Martha smiled sourly. She had been about to leave Jonathan when Clark stumbled into her life. From the moment she saw him she had been violently protective of him. The first thing she thought when she saw him was _I would kill for this child_. His little boy smile and chubby hands had captivated her, and when she looked into his eyes she had felt unconditional love for the first time in her life. After that, there had been no question about leaving Smallville. It was easier to hide Clark's differences in an isolated little town than it would have been in a city. She had needed Jonathan, to help her hide Clark's abilities, and so she had adapted, learning to hide her boredom with farm life under an unshakable mask. She had learned to bake and sew and run a farm, and it had all been worth it because she had her son, and she could watch him grow and learn. By the time Clark was ten she had grown tired of Jonathan, of his need to be in charge which made her have to constantly defer to him. Clark was the reason she tried to keep Jonathan happy, the reason she pretended to be blissfully happy. Now he was gone, and Martha felt adrift, without a purpose for the first time since she had seen him.

_Present, two weeks later_

Martha fussed around her house, realizing as she did so that she was postponing the inevitable. The brown tables gleamed with polish, and the kitchen looked very tidy, recovered from her neglect. She had cleaned the entire house, determined to find some focus. Her son was gone, and so was her unborn baby. It was time to move on, she thought, looking over the neat, painfully tidy house. She had finally made that difficult call to her father. He had sounded old and tired, but that had only made him more willing to have her visit. It had been difficult to swallow her pride and admit that she had made a mistake all those years ago but she had finally done it.

_It wasn't a mistake_, her internal voice said, just as it had all those years ago. And of course it wouldn't have been if she had Clark, or the nameless baby she had loved. Martha blinked away tears. She would not cry again. It had been very hard, not letting Jonathan suspect how much she blamed him for pushing away Clark. If he had known, he would never have gone away and she had needed the solitude to plan and call her father. _She couldn't live with him anymore, not after this._ And she needed to make a life where Clark wouldn't have to deal with Jonathan, once he came home. That thought that Clark would come home to her was the only thing that held her together. _One day_, she thought fiercely, _he will come home to me_. Maybe she would find him in Metropolis. She planned to look.

On the heels of that thought she heard a knock on the door. She had finally talked Jonathan into going to Metropolis to look for Clark so it couldn't be him. She held her breath. _Maybe it's Clark._

The door opened and she saw a familiar brown head. "What...what are you doing here?" she asked, hating the way her voice trembled. His keen brown eyes were dull, and his predator's face lacked it's usual bland expression. His long hair was messy and she felt a reflex desire to comb it with her fingers and straighten it for him. She had done it often enough in the past. _Does he have more white hair?_ she wondered. Maybe she was imagining it. He had been having a difficult time too, she knew. Even in the middle of her haze of grief she had found time to feel sorry for him. His son was dead, while hers was only missing. And his son had died thinking he had never been loved. She sighed. _He looks older._

"I heard you were ill so I brought you flowers. They would have been here earlier, but as I'm sure you know, I've been rather busy." His voice was the same, crisp and familiar.

Despite her grief, Martha almost smiled. It was extremely unlike Lionel to deliver flowers himself. She had never expected to see him again. _He wants something_, she thought, amused almost in spite of herself. _Lionel Luthor always has an ulterior motive_. It was refreshing after Jonathan's determined altruism. "I was sorry to hear about Lex" Martha said, genuine sympathy coloring her words.

Lionel laid his flowers on a convenient table and stalked purposefully towards her. "Lex wasn't the only child I lost that day, was he Martha?" he asked softly, his voice cold.

Martha shivered at the menace in his tone and retreated, backing into a wall. _How did he find out?_ Lionel moved closer, invading her personal space. She tried to breathe deeply to calm herself and smelled his unique personal odor, spicy cologne and something that was purely Lionel. She had loved breathing his scent. It had been so different from Jonathan's sweat. _Don't let him intimidate you_, she thought, opening her eyes to see the blindingly white expanse of his silk shirt. The only way to retain Lionel's respect was to refuse to let him control you. She looked up, meeting his eyes, resisting the impulse to push his hair away from his face. _Lionel is dangerous_, she reminded herself as she looked into his brown eyes. "We both lost two children that day Lionel" she said softly, amused by the ironic parallel. _Even now_, she thought wonderingly, _he draws me out of myself_. He always did.

Lionel moved even closer, pinning her to the wall. "You didn't tell me" he said, sounding baffled. "Why not?"

"I didn't want the child support" Martha said lightly and enjoyed the way the cynical light into his eyes faded into amusement. His face was so mobile, so expressive. It had tempted her almost more then his body. She had let it happen again and again and again, enjoying being selfish for once, enjoying Lionel's keen mind and quick wit. His body had attracted her, but it was his mind that had made him irresistible. It had been so good, being with him. He hadn't expected her to be subservient, like Jonathan had, and she had enjoyed straining to keep up with him. She hadn't planned the baby, although in retrospect, she couldn't believe she hadn't used birth control. It was almost as if she had started believing she was infertile herself. She looked up at Lionel and wondered how much her child would have resembled him. At the thought of her lost baby, she felt tears well up again.

Lionel's expression changed to one of melancholy and his hand brushed away her tears and tangled in her hair. Martha rubbed her cheek against Lionel's hand, reveling in this gesture of comfort from the only person who could share her grief. His skin was surprisingly soft considering that his hands signed papers that often changed the world and destroyed lives. The power he wielded had always fascinated her. "If you had told me, I would have taken you **both** away" he murmured, in the intimate tone she loved. He pulled her against his warm body and stoked her soothingly. It was different from when Jonathan had tried to hold her, much warmer.

She had known Lionel would take her away, but hadn't wanted to disillusion Clark. And besides, Lionel was a difficult man. She knew he would get rid of her the moment she bored him. Lionel's hand strayed back to her hair as he pulled away and bent to kiss her forehead. He slowly followed the trail of her tears down her face to her lips and she shivered. He brushed kisses across her lips gently until reached for his head and pulled him to her. She kissed him eagerly, feeling alive for the first time since the accident. Lionel kissed her slowly and with great deliberation, and as she held him she felt herself come out of the fog that had colored all of her thoughts for the past two weeks, since her world had turned upside down. She leaned into his kiss_. How strange, that Lionel should be the only person who could comfort her._ Jonathan hadn't kissed her like this for years, as though the kiss was all he wanted. Breathing heavily, Martha pulled away from Lionel.

Lionel looked disappointed for a moment before he masked his expression. And started moving back.

_We both wear masks_, Martha thought. Well, she would wear her mask no more. Martha took Lionel's hand before he could turn to leave. She would exorcize her life in this house before she left. "Come with me", she breathed and pulled him by the hand. He followed willingly, a bit confused as she took him upstairs, comprehension dawning as she led him to the room she had shared with Jonathan for so many years

They reached the bed, and she paused. She had made it that morning for what she had intended to be the last time and the sheets were smooth and tightly drawn. Martha looked at the man standing next to her. He was beautiful in a stange unique way. And he was almost the antithesis of Jonathan. "Make me forget, Lionel" she whispered as she fell into the bed and pulled him in. Lionel's arms were wiry, strong in an entirely different way from Jonathan's thickly muscled arms. He tasted of cool mints and exotic foods and his body felt more delicate and he had less body hair.

She moved against him, surprised at how much she had missed this. There was heat and warmth, gentle caresses and surprising tenderness. And then she lost herself with a sharp cry, and for a few moments forgot her lost children. They lay together on her bed, and he murmured soft meaningless things into her hair as she relaxed against him. She would have to leave, she thought dimly through her lassitude, go to Metropolis and her father. Lionel couldn't give her a future. She had to go to Metropolis and start over, somewhere where there would be room for Clark once she found him. But for now, she snuggled into Lionel's heat, enjoying her renewed sense of self. _Five hours until Jonathan gets back_, she thought drowsily. She would be gone before then.

A/N: I thought of this story at the end of the last season, but everyone I talked to about it thought I was nuts. Finally, I got tired of having it live in my head and decided that it ight as well exist online. Smallville is not my property and none of the characters in this fic belong to me. If you liked it, review.


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